


But there was desire in those insults

by poetsandzombies



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Arguing, M/M, Post Avengers (Movie), Tony Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetsandzombies/pseuds/poetsandzombies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was my first stony fanfic, and ugh I did that thing where you quote the movie. I have more that's typed up somewhere on my tumblr. I'll post it later.</p><p>This is actually several chapters smashed together o</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first stony fanfic, and ugh I did that thing where you quote the movie. I have more that's typed up somewhere on my tumblr. I'll post it later.
> 
> This is actually several chapters smashed together o

It was late, and with everything that was planned for tomorrow, everyone had gone to bed early. Everyone except for Steve, who had had trouble adjusting to the... time zone, and Tony, who’s sleeping schedule was all out of wack to begin with. They were both exhausted, physically and mentally, so it only took one jab from Tony to set Steve off. He turned around at the sound of his voice, clenching his teeth.

 “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?” He challenged. Tony took a few steps toward him.

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” He shot back, accepting his challenge. Steve took a few steps towards him, buying time to think of what to say. They were now just inches apart.

”I know guys with none of that worth ten of you.” He retorted.

“That so?” Tony said. He placed a hand on Steve’s stomach. It was a move you’d make to hold someone back who looked about ready to fight. But the thing was was that wasn’t the case for either of them. Both their hearts beat hard in their chests, nostrils flared, eyes bore into each other’s, but their bodies were otherwise calm. Tensed, but calm.

This move gave Steve a feeling that confused him. He didn’t know it, it took him by surprise. He wasn’t sure why his breathing was more rapid, or why his legs were suddenly numb. All he knew was he swore he had felt Tony’s hand slip down the tiniest inch, and Steve couldn’t keep his eyes from widening.

He tried shaking his nerves off as exhaustion, but when he finally managed to speak again, his words came out wrong.

“Put on the suit, let’s go a few rounds.” He croaked. Tony looked shocked for the slightest second before remembering what they had been talking about.

-

A wave of thoughts hit Tony, and he took a step back, not overly fond of how weak he felt so close to Steve.

He hated it, in fact. Weak was vulnerable, and strength was all he had. Strength from being intimidating. He was a drunken man who didn’t seem to care about himself let alone anyone else, always taking what people said and shoving it right back down their throats, and no one was willing to challenge a man like that. It was a cover, it was a shield of protection, a shield of reputation that made him intimidating, and that gave him strength. Take that away, and what was he? A broken man. And here Steve was, willing to challenge that shielded man. Because clearly he had a shield too, and perhaps he could see all that Tony was, just as he said. And Tony hated that, but he waved aside any other feelings that started creeping into him, refusing to believe that it was anything more than him feeling intimidated for once in his life.

But the longer Tony’s hand lingered at his belt, as Steve watched Tony’s lip curl the slightest bit at whatever was going on his head, Steve’s eyes softened, he turned more into himself.

“Tony…?” He asked. The shorter man let his hand drop, slightly swinging by his side for a moment. Fuck it, he thought, too exhausted to care about the unfinished argument. _I’ll get you tomorrow._

“Goodnight, Captain.” was all he said before turning around heading toward his room.

* * *

Silence filled the dimly lit room. Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, and Tony Stark were all sitting, cheek in hand, elbow on table, as Fury hovered over them. Things that day didn’t go exactly as planned, and although they were successful, it was a little messier than they would have liked.

Fury’s nostrils flared, and for a moment everyone just listened to his breathing, almost a snarl. When he spoke, however, his voice was calm.

“Would anyone like to explain to me why everything we had been planning did not happen?”

Nobody said a word, but everyone’s eyes made their way to Tony, who just shrugged.

“What? We won, no need to thank me or anything. I don’t see what the problem is.” he folded his arms.

“The problem is that we lost a lot more people than we intended. And not just our own. Innocent people, Tony!” Steve’s voice rose as vivid images and echoed screams pounded in his skull.

“Not to mention we almost lost Romanoff.” Clint added with an awkward cough.

“You killed innocent men everyday in the war!” Tony yelled, scoffing. Steve stood up at that, and Tony followed, meeting each other in the middle, where Fury was but was no longer standing. 

“Yes, and that was bad. But those men were out to kill me just as I was them.” Steve retorted. Tony rolled his eyes.

“Oh yes, I forgot who you were. Captain America. Congratulations. The world’s biggest virgin representing the world’s sluttiest country. Does the irony symbolize our hypocrisy?” He asked, his tone sarcastic in it’s innocence. His lips twitched up when he saw Steve’s ears redden. They were so close now. Their foreheads touched, their noses pressed to each other’s. Steve felt his stomach churn.

“You know what your problem is, Stark?” he said breathlessly, “You’re a child. The only adult thing about you is your facial hair and ability to legally drink yourself to sleep every night.”

And the room went silent. Because that was not a Steve Rogers thing to say. Because it was too mean and too true. Because no one, not even Tony Stark, had a come back for that.

And there it was again. That feeling of intimidation that Tony loathed and admired. He wasn’t angry because of Steve’s words, he was angry because he was defeated, and he wanted to shut Steve up any way that he could, but it was too late.

“Guys.” Natasha’s soft voice broke through their tension, “You’re making Banner shake.”

The two looked over at the table to Natasha, rubbing Bruce’s now faintly green shaded arm.

Clint was staring intently at his hands, tightly clasped on the table. Tony and Steve’s muscles relaxed immediately at the sight, but the other three had already decided to leave the room. Fury had long since left. Steve stared at his feet as the quiet settled over again.

“I didn’t mean it.” he said.

“Yeah you did.”

“I didn’t mean to say it.” Tony didn’t reply, but he could feel Steve’s contemplation. 

“Tony, I feel funny.” Steve finally let out. Tony’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You need to lay down…?”

“No, no… Just, when we get like this…” he turned and paced away from Tony, then paced back impossibly closer than before.

Of course, Tony knew what he was talking about. He knew exactly what he was feeling. But he wouldn’t admit it. Not first. Probably not ever.

“I’m afraid I don’t-” but he was cut off as Steve locked his hands around Tony’s waist and pressed it against his, and the pressure made his nose twitch, and his eyes close.

But Steve let go just as quickly, apologetically, his eyes widened in the shock of his own actions. And Tony was shocked too, but more accepting. Steve was different, he put Tony in his place, and that was an oddly frustrating turn on.

“Tony, I’m sorry. I don’t know what… I can’t explain…” Steve started rambling.

“Shut up.” Tony interrupted, pulling Steve back and pressing his lips to his before he knew what he was doing. But after a second Steve was kissing him back, and all his tensed muscles and anger caught in his breath fell away, leaving just… attraction.

By the time they pulled away from each other, Steve’s back was pressed against the wall. They looked at each other, breathing roughly. Neither of them wanted to admit or talk about what had just happened, so Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and started kissing him again.

They could think about it later.

* * *

Tony pressed Steve up against the wall, his fingers twisted in his hair, his mouth on his. Steve’s hands crawled up his back, under his shirt. They were an entangled mess of clutching hands, ragged breath, and moving tongues behind their lips.

Innocent kissing, Steve liked to think of it. Even though it was a secret kept behind the backs of those who needed to trust them. Even though it had been two weeks, and still their actions remained unlabeled and undiscussed. Innocent kissing, Steve thought, even though it didn’t feel so innocent.

Steve tried pulling his lips away, but Tony just moved down, kissing his jaw, biting his neck.

“Tony…” but his words broke into a soft moan as Tony slid his hand down between his inner thighs, and Steve forgot what he wanted to say.

But they only had a few more minutes of this before Steve heard footsteps coming from the hallway. Natasha’s, he was sure.

Even though he knew they had an esitmate of about 6 seconds before they were in her view, he was hesitant to let go, lightly pushing Tony’s chest, but keeping their foreheads together until the other man heard the foot steps too and put unwanted but necessary distance between them just in time for Natasha to come in. Tony coughed with a nod.

“Agent Romanoff.” He said. She looked from Steve to Tony, eyebrows furrowed at the sight of them voluntarily in the same room, then waved it off, shaking her head.

“Stark.” She responded. Steve clasped his hands together in front of him, ignoring the urge to wipe the spit he was sure Natasha could see in the corner of his lips. But if she did see, she didn’t say anything. 

“Fury meant to hold a meeting for this. Basically, with the world free of threats, S.H.I.E.L.D finds your presence unnecessary at the moment, and is giving you your leave. We will be in touch soon, when you’re needed.” Natasha’s face remained blank, professional, but she offered a smile at Tony’s immediate gasp of “Finally” and then ramble of how boring it’s been around here. 

But Steve wasn’t as thrilled. He didn’t have anything to go home to. Tony had Pepper, and Jarvis, and his lab. The closest thing Steve had to family anymore is in S.H.I.E.L.D.

He also heard Tony talk to Bruce about staying with him for a while to work on science experiments and theories that wandered through the two’s minds. Not that that was any of Steve’s business. Or that he was jealous. There was nothing to be jealous of, anyway. It was just something that he thought about. A lot.  
—  
The next day everyone was packed and ready. They all stood outside in a parking lot, their own usual vehicles somehow delivered to them.

Steve shook hands with Clint and Natasha, but Thor pulled him into a hug before he could offer his hand. Nobody’s goodbyes were real thorough because it wasn’t going to be permanent. But that didn’t stop Steve’s body from trembling slightly as he went up to Tony, who was putting his and Bruce’s bags in the back seat. He wasn’t sure what to say, and he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t sure what to say. Finally he took a deep breath and and held out his hand.

But Bruce took it before Tony had even turned around, giving him a small smile before letting go and hopping in the car. Tony was still bent over the trunk. Steve bit his lip as he watched him, his shirt pressed tightly against the arc reactor. He looked up, and Steve shook his head, wiping his mouth.

“Steve.” Tony said, walking up to him. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, but then Tony just shook his hand, gripping his shoulder with his other one. “I’ll call you.” He grins, winks, and then is gone, in the car, speeding down the highway, leaving Steve alone with his motorcycle in the now empty parking lot.

And he was confused.

* * *


	2. So you called?

Tony liked working with Bruce. No, he didn’t have the same odd sense of humor as Tony, but really, who did? Bruce had a personality that gelled with everyone’s, plus he was a man of science, so on that level he understood Tony.

They stayed at Tony's house, Stark Tower still under serious repair after their last mission. They practically lived in the lab, skipping meals and staying up until 4-5 in the morning, working on a maximum of 5 hours of sleep. They didn’t work on anything huge, but mainly played around and fidgeted with Tony’s equipment, throwing equations at each other and spitting back theories the other had mentioned the night before to think about as they slept, constantly building on to the idea, making it thorough, bullet proof.

So maybe in between all the science talk and excitement, Tony forgot to call Steve. In all honesty, he didn’t realize he had said he would. And that’s where he always messed up.

A broken promise, a lack of commitment to anything that didn’t involve a computer… the sarcastic remark that acted as his arc reactor. It kept anything from getting to his heart, but it also kept his heart from getting to anyone.

***

Meanwhile, Steve spent all his time in an abandoned gym, pounding furiously on a punching bag, memories of before and after his 70 years of rest swimming in his head. No thanks to the serum, Steve Rogers hardly ever got tired, but here he always seemed to wear himself out.

When he was done, he would stop by the bookstore and grab a book to read back at his apartment. Sometimes he would just sit quietly in a chair and sketch things of little importance, things that haunted his dreams, or sometimes even his wake.

His days were uneven, his sleeping schedule off. His nights were lonely, though he’d been offered company several times, each of which he denied politely with a blush. He was somewhat used to being alone, but not so used to not having Bucky around if he needed him. Or even Peggy on those last few years.

It was the first time since he had woken from the ice that Steve always had his phone with him, or rather, even remembered that he had a phone. And it wasn’t because of all the women behind counters that scribbled their numbers on his receipt whenever he went out to get something. It wasn’t that he suddenly had people that wanted to talk to him on a regular basis. It wasn’t even that he was hoping Fury might call him in for a mission—he knew Fury would come in person for that. But he was expecting a phone call, a phone call he realized after three weeks that he wouldn’t get.

***

“Hey Tony?” Bruce called from across the lab. Tony was hunched over his desk, sketches scattered around his feet and one in front of him, an inch from his eye as he drew in and labeled the new quirks he planned on adding to Jarvis.

“Hmm?” He muttered, not actually aware of being called until he heard his own voice answer and he jumped, surprised.

“Yeah, what is it?” He stood up straight, pulling his hands out behind him and stretching at the tenseness in his back. Bruce was staring intently at a book, his fingers tracing a line.

“It says right here that if-”

“Sir.” Jarvis’ voice broke through, and Bruce went quiet, looking down with a patient smile on his persed lips.

“Yeah?” Tony called out, confused.

“You have a visiter.” Jarvis said, and a hologram of his front door popped in front of Tony.

At the sight of who it was, Tony felt his stomach sink and he tossed the hologram away quickly before Bruce could see.

“Dr. Banner? I’ll be just a few minutes. If you need anything, ask Jarvis.” He said, gathering up his papers and stacking them as neatly as crumpled papers would stack before heading upstairs.

“Sure,” He heard Bruce call after him.

On his way to the door, Tony found himself running a hand through his ruffled hair and brushing off his wrinkled t-shirt, trying unconsciously to make neat of what had been sleep-deprived and hardly clean for days.

He opened the door before he had even thought to think of what to say, the shock of the man’s unwarned visit still vivid on his face, growing even, once he laid eyes on him, blonde and blue-eyed, clothes tight and threatening to rip where his muscles clenched. Tony’s mouth dried.

“Steve.” Was all he could let out, a bit choked and raspy. He cleared his throat. Steve’s eyes widened. For a second he looked like he was going to turn and run, but his hand just flew up behind his head, cheeks reddening, and if the literal peak of human perfection could stutter, that’s what he was doing.

“I-… you never called.” He finally said. Tony looked at the man for a long, quiet moment, and suddenly the technical age difference became apparent to him. Steve was still young, very young, and in any kind of relationship or even just friendships, words like “I’ll call you” couldn’t just be thrown around, they had to be meant, the meaning and feelings behind it weren’t enough.

May be it wasn’t just age that blinded that from Tony.

He opened his mouth, but his apology was interrupted.

“Tony, I’m confused,” He started, and the wave of feelings and memory from that first night hit Tony hard. “I’m confused, and I’ve never done this before. With anyone.” He clarified. Tony opened his mouth, but Steve started talking again.

“I don’t really know what ‘this’ is, even. I know you, or I thought I did, I knew you were not a relationship man, or you never seemed like one, but then you never seemed like someone who’d take interest in… well, in someone like me. I don’t know, Tony, I’ve always committed to everything I’ve done, but I’m not really sure what’s going through your head right now, so-”

Tony wasn’t sure how many times he was going to have to shut Steve up by kissing him, but so far it’d been twice. Steve’s mouth was tense between Tony’s and Tony could tell that Steve couldn’t think clearly enough to breathe while he kissed him, so he pulled away gently, but kept his hand tugging on the man’s t-shirt.

“Just come inside, and we’ll talk.” He said.

\---

Steve sat quietly on the couch, hands in his lap, one knee bouncing lightly. He looked around at what he could see of the unnecessarily large living room, awe-ing at the unique style.

Tony was babbling. Not of anything important, of course. Steve knew he was just avoiding the reason Steve was here, the feelings he didn’t want to discuss.

“…and I know you didn’t see it before, but I just finished up repairing that wall over there after another Iron man incident.”

“You seem to have a lot of those.” Steve remarked, voice filled with a complete lack of interest that Tony didn’t pick up on.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “you should have seen the house when I was first working on the suit. It was… it was…” he trailed off with a sigh at Steve’s unnatural cough, grabbing two mugs now filled with coffee and heading over to Steve, sitting in front of him. His mouth parted a minute before he actually spoke.

“For the longest time I thought… I thought that since Pepper could take care of me, I…” He cut off, finding the color of his coffee more interesting than what he was saying. Steve was patient. They sat quietly.

“I don’t.” Tony continued, keeping the important words in his head. “Pepper’s kept me stable for years, and I do care for her very much, but I don’t… I don’t need her. Not in the way that I thought I did.” Steve didn’t respond. He could feel himself shaking. Tony cleared his throat.

“Rogers, you were a bedtime story for the first six years of my life. The only one I was ever told. I grew up admiring you and hating you for being the only thing that seemed to give my father hope and inspiration.”

Steve shuddered at the thought, at the mention of Howard, and at the slight taint of mint that brushed his nose as Tony’s face got closer to his.

“Of course, none of that mattered at the time. You were an imaginary man, or a dead one at least. But now here you are, peeled right off the wall of my childhood, legend and all. I can’t fathom what it is in you that makes you so good, so willing to risk your life for one person, one stranger, not once but many times. You’d think it was some sort of death wish. Hell, may be now it is…”

It took a moment for Steve to catch on to Tony’s rambling again. It was different this time because it wasn’t entirely off topic, and the words leaving his mouth were things he’d probably never let himself even think inside his own head normally. But he was avoiding the point.

“Do you want to try this or not?” He interrupted, receiving a startled look from Tony.

“I- what?” Steve was done beating around the bush.

“This. Us. You don’t have to be 100% sure about it, and we don’t have to go and tell everyone, but listen, I’m not going to sneak around with Tony Stark because he’s bored with women and wants to try something new.”

“Woah! You think this is an experimental thing?” Tony asked, bewildered.

“Wouldn’t exactly be shocking.”

Tony ignored this comment because he knew it was true. He looked at Steve, whose worried expression told him that he just didn’t want to get hurt. It was probably the only selfish feeling Steve’s ever had, and knowing that he caused this struck him with a pang of guilt.

“I have a heart too.” He whispered. Steve reached out and brushed the rim of Tony’s arc reactor gently, a smile hinted on his face.

“I know,” he said absently, “And may be one day there’ll be room for me.” At this, Tony’s breath is knocked out of him.

“Or may be there already is.” He croaks. And that was as close to a yes as Steve was going to get, and coming from Tony it was more than enough.


	3. After the ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is that last I have written of this story, I sort of gave up on it a while ago. But I'll try writing some more of it sometime soon

There was fire. 

Flames that erupted around corridors. There was a face of red, a small man with glasses, both taunting his humanity.

There was Bucky, so close and yet so far, his loyalty gluing his hands to the railing, burning in his eyes as he refused to leave. Flash forward to the train, throwing his best friend down, his hand still outstretched, still calling… 

There was Peggy, small in his compass, voice breaking through muffled frantic ones. An exchange of words that held him together, but tore through their hearts.

There was ice.   
—— 

Steve sat up, squirming from the sweaty, entangled mess of covers, ripping a few as he tossed them to the floor. He cradled his head between his knees, rocking his body slightly until he stopped shaking. When his breathing steadied, he got up to splash cold water over his face and strip down to his boxers—it was too hot to stand anything else. 

It was only three in the morning. How was he suppose to sleep after that? He didn’t want the nightmare to continue. He ran a hand through his hair.

But it wouldn’t continue. It might start all over, but it wouldn’t continue. Because that was the end of the nightmare.

Because what came after the ice? 

Steve left his room, stumbling through the dark hallways of the house, not exactly sure if he would be able to find the room he was looking for. But if his brain was too tired to navigate, his body led him where he needed to go. 

He was glad the door was wide open, not sure if he would be able to knock if it had been closed. Only the foggyness of his brain allowed him to enter. 

He hovered over the bed, trying to find the sense to leave as he looked at the body outstretched on top of the covers. But the slow inhale and exhale of his chest and the lack of a shirt was doing nothing to help him.

With a numbing sensation spreading through his mind, and a churning in his stomach that would have started up his asthma had he been without the serum, he crept slowly into the bed next to the sleeping mass. He must have been completely out of it by then when reached over the man’s waist and pulled his body against his own, just carefully enough to not stir him.

Tony came after the ice.


End file.
